r," by Bastien-Lepage; "A Widow," by Bouguereau; and "An
Execution," by Jean Paul Laurens. The last work represented a Vendean
priest shot against the wall of his church by a detachment of Blues. A
smile flitted across the governor's grave countenance as he indicated
the next wall. "Here the fanciful school." First came a little canvas by
Jean Beraud, entitled, "Above and Below." It was a pretty Parisian
mounting to the roof of a tramcar in motion. Her head appeared on a
level with the top, and the gentlemen on the seats viewed with
satisfaction the pretty face approaching them, while those standing on
the platform below considered the young woman's legs with a different
expression of envy and desire. Monsieur Walter held the lamp at arm's
length, and repeated, with a sly laugh: "It is funny, isn't it?" Then he
lit up "A Rescue," by Lambert. In the middle of a table a kitten,
squatted on its haunches, was watching with astonishment and perplexity
a fly drowning in a glass of water. It had its paw raised ready to fish
out the insect with a rapid sweep of it. But it had not quite made up
its mind. It hesitated. What would it do? Then the governor showed a
Detaille, "The Lesson," which represented a soldier in a barrack-room
teaching a poodle to play the drum, and said: "That is very witty."

Duroy laughed a laugh of approbation, and exclaimed: "It is charming,
charm--" He stopped short on hearing behind him the voice of Madame de
Marelle, who had just come in.

The governor continued to light up the pictures as he explained them. He
now showed a water-color by Maurice Leloir, "The Obstacle." It was a
sedan chair checked on its way, the street being blocked by a fight
between two laborers, two fellows struggling like Hercules. From out of
the window of the chair peered the head of a charming woman, who watched
without impatience, without alarm, and with a certain admiration, the
combat of these two brutes. Monsieur Walter continued: "I have others in
the adjoining rooms, but they are by less known men. I buy of the young
artists now, the very young ones, and hang their works in the more

private rooms until they become known." He then went on in a low tone:
"Now is the time to buy! The painters are all dying of hunger! They have
not a sou, not a sou!"

But Duroy saw nothing, and heard without understanding. Madame de
Marelle was there behind him. What ought he to do? If he spoke to her,
might she not turn her back on hi